


Idyll you will become

by Webtrinsic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Iron Man suits - Freeform, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Original Character(s), Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Routine, Tony's Peter's dad not anyone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 23:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16607276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: When Kidnappers enforce routine, life feels just a bit hectic after. Luckily he has his mentor there, who's admittedly a much better father-figure than his kidnapper had tried to be.





	Idyll you will become

Peter refused to open his eyes against the light shining in, shoulders rolling against the mattress, it molding to accommodate his movement. His brow furrowed at that, his mattress had always been too stiff for his shoulders, the longer he sat there he realized his bed had never cocooned him either. 

Pulling his eyes opened, Peter instantly startled; jumping back towards the headboard of the bed with a thud. This wasn’t his room. His room wasn’t as big and put together. His room may be blue but it wasn’t this dark and displaying photo-realistic stars and galaxies.

His floor also wasn’t a deep mahogany, and his bed wasn’t a king with posts that held red curtains that looked identical to his suits nice color. His suit...he’d been wearing his suit, hadn’t he? Shutting his eyes tightly, Peter tried to think of what he remembered last. 

_Swinging….swinging...falling?_ Both seemed the same at times, his stomach dropping, the sensation tingling through his core. But there was nothing after that, no memory of crawling up into his room, nor removing his suit and flopping into bed trying desperately not to hit the top bunk and doing just that. 

Peeking under the covers, Peter’s eyes widened at the sight of his pajamas. They were something out of British television itself, pristine and buttoned to perfection with a collar.  Chancing it, Peter looked over the edge of the bed to confirm his suspicions and realized he was right. Matching blue slippers sat beside one another, just waiting for his socked feet to slide in and make themselves at home. 

Hiding back under the covers, Peter glanced around the room taking in where the light was coming in. The two double glass doors leading to a balcony. The rest of the room held shelves of his interest, books, comics, Lego boxes with pieces inside just waiting to be built.

A black telescope stood in front of the balcony doors, itching to be used at night to chart the stars. Yawning Peter slipped out from the bed, bypassing the shoes in his own simple act of defiance, not to mention the black...cotton….wool? Socks would keep his feet warm.

This little act was disrupted when a soft but firm knock came from the dark wood door before it opened, a beautiful woman stepped in, a blue maid’s dress hugging her features with a white apron resting gently over the sky blue. Her reddish brown hair was tied in a fancy bun, two strands coming down to frame her face, showing off her olive skin and green eyes and youthful face but Peter figured she had to be in her early thirties at least.

“Oh, Mister Peter you mustn’t walk around with just your socks!” She gently placed a hand on his shoulder and sat him back on the bed, kneeling down and sliding the slippers onto his feet. 

“Where am I?” 

“Home,” She said with a sense of finality, “Mr. Lendon is waiting in the dining room for you, for breakfast,” The woman walked over to the closet, picking out an outfit before setting it out on the bed beside him before retreating back to the walk-in closet where she grabbed a pair of dress shoes.

Once everything was in place, Peter watching with wide confused eyes. Startling when she began unbuttoning his shirt, “What...what are ...you doing?”

“Why getting you dressed Mister Parker,” She explained, slipping off the nightshirt and sliding on a blue dress shirt before buttoning it and rolling up the sleeves to his elbows; accentuating the muscles in his arms.

Taking off the slippers, she pulled him into a standing position. Peter awkwardly blushing as she helped him out of his pants and into a pair of tight nearly black dress pants with a wood brown belt and matching shoes.

“I’ll take you downstairs, but Mr. Lendon would like to give you a tour of the house himself,”  

“Mr...Mr. Lendon?” 

“Yes! Mr. Lendon, he’s the one who brought you here to live! He has such good intentions for you,” The maid continued, leading him out of the room and into the hall. The teen shoes echoed off the wooden floor and the long beige and red carpet that lined the long hall.

The walls were the same red velvet as the carpet, with lined wood panels that went up about halfway.  Heading down the stairs after the woman, Peter whispered out, “What’s your name?”

“Ramona, but you can call me whatever you’d like,” Peter only nodded, following the carpet down the hard steps. The more turns the boy took to go to another flight of stairs he realized his room had been at the top level of the mansion and the dining room must have been on second since she led him away even when he could still see more stairs descending.

Continuing on, Peter noted the new hallway he’d entered. The left side of the manor was open with a long table with another set of doors behind it, judging by the chef who came out the door, while it also had no handles he figured it must be a kitchen. The right side held another set of double doors, a plaque he couldn’t quite read from this angle on the side of it. With photos of old heroes and newer photos lining the walls

Tilting on his feet, Peter carefully stepped forward as Ramona pulled out a chair closest to the man at the end. It must have been Mr. Lendon. He had wide shoulders, grey hair, not an old grey but it wasn’t bad; it vaguely reminded him of George Clooney. His eyes were silver, with a long thin nose with black and blue specs sitting atop it.

Mr. Lendon stood, offering his hand and showing just how tall he was. As someone who was only 5’8 standing next to someone who was at least 6’5 was absolutely terrifying. 

“Peter,” He smiled with sparkling teeth, Peter gave a weary one back confused, “Please have a seat,” He encouraged, motioning to the seat. Sitting, Peter jolted lightly when Romana pushed it in, he’d completely forgotten she was there.

“My apologies for being so rude, I’m Walter Josiah Lendon. Superhero extraordinaire,” Peter was almost sure a twinkle reflected off the man’s smile. The words choked Peter up in the slightest, mind buzzing at the thought that this man knew who he was and had his suit too.

“Peter Parker, but-but I think y-you already knew that,” Peter stuttered out frightened, the man gave a reassuring smile, leaning forward and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Nodding Mr. Lendon still continued to smile, “I did know that,” he chuckled softly, “I also know you’re Spider-Man, your powers are extraordinary. It’s an honor to have you here,” 

“A-About that-” 

“Oh, the food’s here!” Walter interrupted as the chef walked in, holding two trays with domes placed atop. The man looked remarkably like Happy except his hair wasn’t so dark and his eyes were blue, not to mention Happy didn’t have a curling mustache and Italian accent.

“Bon appetite, a fine sirloin for the Spider, and Mr. Walter’s favorite tri-tip,” Lifting the tops of the trays, Peter looked almost amazed at the meal with the side of mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables, his mouth nearly watered. 

“Eat up,” Walter smiled, watching as Peter reached for his knife and fork. Walter laughed but stood, coming over and switching the utensils in the boy’s hands before using the boy’s arms to cut the food.

“You use your dominant hand to cut,” He smiled, looking down at the boy adoringly before taking his seat again. Peter simply nodded, cutting the rest himself before speaking up.

“Excuse me, why-why am I here?” Peter finally asked, poking lightly at the food with his fork. Afraid to start eating and not being able to respond. Walter looked up at that,

“I’ll explain that in a minute, why don’t you eat first sweetheart?” The name caught Peter off guard, but he nodded anyway. Finally getting to the food, Peter began to eat instantly wanting to at least tell the chef thank you.

“Um, my compliments to the chef,” He whispered, causing Walter to smile at his manners. Calling the chef back in and proudly telling him. Seeing as Peter had shied away once Giovanni entered. Shy, the boy was immensely shy, but Walter found it more endearing than anything else. 

Giovanni took a slight bow and grinned in appreciation, “And once you are done with these, I have some molten cake waiting for you,”

This caused Peter’s eyes to widen and smile, completely forgetting he might actually be here against his will. Giovanna stepped out to let them finish their meal, which was in mostly silence until Walter spoke up.

“My family has been studying and working with superheroes for as long they’ve been around, after dessert I’ll show you all the things I’ve collected over the years,” Walter grinned, before putting another piece of broccoli in his mouth.

Peter continued to eat, listening as Walter talked about his ancestors and discussing how before the age of the Avenger’s it’d been the mutants. Such as Magneto, Charles Xavier, and the event’s involving a super mutant named Apocalypse.

Peter absorbed the information, eyes bright at the sound of the X-men. They weren’t as relevant anymore due to fear, but Peter hoped at least one day he’d be able to meet them and possibly help them save the day. He wasn’t afraid of them.

Those big brown eyes widened at the sight of cake being placed in front of them, the moment his spoon cut through the spongy cake a fountain of lava-ish chocolate quickly escaped and Peter was instantly giddy at the sight of it.

Walter watched this exchange with a soft smile, he knew this excitement wouldn’t last long. Not when he found out why he was here, but Walter couldn’t possibly feel guilty. He’d lost his own superhero son, Kieren had been able to see in thermal but didn’t have any strength nor did he have any other power. Needless to say, trying to stop a bank robbery, the seventeen-year-old hadn’t survived the eight bullets that pierced his neck and chest.

But this boy, who had almost the exact same interest. Kieren had never been interested in affection or people whatsoever nor had he been so polite or innocent. Though he had been shy, while also very enthusiastic about crime fighting even if it meant killing his enemies.

But Peter was more kind, more starved for attention and when he went out, he went out not for the fun of it but because he actually wanted to help while enjoying it. As much as he wanted his son to love him and be a hero, he’d never amount to the boy in front of him. Not only would he have the first and only living thing in his collection, but he’d have something to father, instruct, make a million times better. He could transform him into something perfect.

The teen wiped his mouth with his napkin, wondering what to do with his empty plate only for Ramona and Giovanni to appear from nowhere and place the tops back over the trays and whisking them off to the kitchen.

“You need a minute to digest before I give you the grand tour?” Peter nodded at that, sipping his water not knowing how bad his mouth would dry in seeing all the hero trinkets he’d heard about. It took a few minutes for Peter to settle his full stomach and following the man down the hall before they went down the stairs. 

A breath he didn’t know he’d been holding felt as if it’d been suddenly punched out, the long room had what seemed to be museum displays behind thick glass while the middle room was open aside from the giant piece of the Chitauri worm things head mounted in the middle. While pieces of its almost rib like body were hanging from the roof, stealing his attention.

“The upper levels exhibits are all villains,” Walter hummed, head motioning to the small spiral grated staircase. Peter nodded absently, moving to the first display on the left side. It was for the Fantastic Four, the blue outfits placed on white mannequins.

“How’d you get these?” Peter asked seeing they weren’t fully intact. Burn scorches and tears held to some.

“They changed after a battle while someone I worked with managed to swipe them, they knew I’d give them a life where they wouldn’t be used again,” 

“Oh,” Peter hummed, moving to the next one labeled Banshee, the next after that being Johnny Blaze with an actual motorcycle and burned up leather jacket. The next one hurt, it was his. In his same iconic pose was a replica of his original suit, while the standing one held his Stark suit. 

“I was hoping you still had the suit you fought the Vulture in, I hate having fakes,” Walter pointed out, but Peter’s eyes were focused on his little compartment. The background of his display was Queen’s skyline and it almost made Peter scream. Tears brimmed in his eyes without his knowledge, turning around Peter’s eyes widened and he practically ran toward the display directly across from his own. Iron Man. 

Mark 39 stood tall, the mask exactly what he needed to see but the lack of red almost confused him. Yet he couldn’t help the sob that finally escaped, hand’s instantly coming to his face. Before he fell to his knees hard, his breaths were heavy and his hands on instinct moved to his pockets only to remember these weren’t even his clothes.

His phone wasn’t here and neither was his Stark watch. He had no way of contacting his mentor, other than his suit...his suit. Before Walter could even fully bend down to try to offer some comfort, Peter was scrambling to his exhibit and hitting the glass only to find nothing happened before deciding it was okay to use his full strength. The second he’d started a pinch-hit his wrist and he stopped, looking down.

He hadn’t noticed before the bands held to his wrist, so thin and flexible that he didn’t even know they were there. They matched his skin tone he noted, as the world grew dizzy and he fell back into waiting arms. His body went numb, sedatives baked into and cramped into the bracelets would inject him whenever he tried using any of his abilities not to mention if it was necessary, the staff could also activate them manually. 

His breaths choked as tears continued to fall, he wanted Tony, he needed Tony. A soft whimper escaped as he was picked up, “I knew it may be too much, it’s alright sweetheart. You’ll get used to your new life,” before Peter could truly react to that statement the world went black in a slow terrifying process.

\---

Peter woke up in his room, instantly jumping up to find himself into a new pair of pajamas this time a light gray with black accents. His hands flew to their opposite wrist, inspecting the bands and trying desperately to pull them off only to find they wouldn’t budge.

Backing up against the headboard, the image of Mark 39 burned in his brain. Forcing tears from his eyes once more, causing him to bring his knees to his chest. His temples burned in the start of a headache, jutting out of the bed when he heard Ramona’s knock. Peter braced the door with his back, fingers white as he gripped the door’s frame.

Tears continued to flow freely as the door tried to open, the noise actively hurting his ears as his senses heightened. His elevated heart rate set off the bands around his wrist, a pinch poking into his wrist. His white fingers slowly loosened before the door was pushed and his body hit the floor, his nose hitting the wood with a crack but the pain barely registered as the world went black.

Ramona screamed once she opened the door, rushing to get him off the ground and cringing at the sight of blood. 

Mr. Lendon and the butler James quickly rushed in, Walter dropping to his knees beside her as James carefully rolled the boy over. The teens head placed gently in the rich man’s lap as his dexterous fingers pinched the top of his nose, above the break to help stop the bleeding.  The teen was carefully lifted, being rushed to the mansion's infirmary and set down on the table.

“When will he stop fighting?” Walter asked concerned, just wanting his new found son and little superhero to be happy and healthy. 

“He’ll stop fighting you soon,” James assured, keeping the boy's nose straight and forcing it into the correct position so his healing factor would kick in and it wouldn’t heal wrong.

“You’re right, he just needs some time,” Walter sighed, more composed than before. Time, he could give the boy some time. They had so much time, Peter wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, most likely ever again...well at least not without supervision.

“He must be so afraid passing out so much,” Walter sighed, running a hand through the boy’s hair causing the limp form to lean into the touch. Unaware that it wasn’t Tony’s gentle but calloused hand like his body thought it was.

\---

“He’s just gone,” Tony whispered, sitting back in his office chair that seemingly sunk to accommodate his weight. 

Rhodey looked down at his friend, they’d been searching ever since the suit had gone offline. The suit couldn’t be traced with it off. After the whole Vulture ordeal, Tony had relented with the tracker, it could only activate if Peter let it, or if Karen had determined it was necessary. Needless to say, that was a mistake because how could she activate it when she wasn’t even on?

The billionaire berated himself for his idiocy, lifting his hand to his face Tony groaned. Not realizing tears were quickly falling and he whispered out his most dreaded thought, “He could be dead,”

Rhodey sighed at that but knew if anything, in some weird way, you always knew. But Tony still had hope, even if it was just a little. He knew Peter was likely alive too. He had to be, Tony still needed him. And if he knew anything about that boy, he knew Peter would always live for Tony Stark.

\---

Peter woke again, aware his face was sore and his nose felt as if it’d been twisted into oblivion. 

“I’m glad to see you’re awake son,” Walter smiled, Peter still disoriented nodded. 

\---

Again he danced for his ballet instructor Kristoff, twirling effortlessly and bringing his leg up high as he spun on his left foot. Ending with his body leaned back in what Peter always thought was a provocative pose, his arms reached up with his fingertips touching making his shoulders point. 

The strain the pose put on his shoulders ached beautifully, ballet was a work out he’d never known he needed. There was a lot in his schedule he hadn’t known he needed, that being said he hadn’t known he needed a schedule at all.

At first, he thought waking up at eight, nine on weekends if he really wanted to sleep in was terrible. Especially meaning he had to go to bed at ten. He had breakfast exactly fifteen minutes after he woke, giving him time to get dressed. After breakfast he got straight to work with a tutor, the subject varied each day: Math was on Mondays, Tuesday was history, Wednesday was chemistry, and Thursday was English. Often times on Friday he was able to do a number of activities.

After each two and a half hour session, he had lunch. He had thirty minutes to digest, during this, he read books. Ones of great literature, often Shakespeare or Poe. Once his reading time was finished, it was time for ballet. An hour and a half at that, an hour class after that on manners and etiquette. His second lunch was after, with his continuous work and high metabolism he needed meal time. That had been another thirty minutes, while he had the rest of the day till dinner to himself. Thirty minutes after was dessert and after that bathtime. 

When he had time to himself he’d tour the superheroes and villains, the hope of the Iron-Man suit activating and flying him home vanishing almost completely. He couldn’t use his powers to break the glass and try activating both his and the Iron-Man suit.

There hadn’t been anything in the news of Iron-Man desperately searching for something unknown, he hadn’t seen anyone asking where had Queen’s vigilante had gone. There was nothing. No hope, no Iron-Man coming to save him from this dull existence.

\---

That night at dinner, Peter ate in silence while Mr. Lendon continued to chat on and on about god knows what. That is until he said:

“I’d like you to call me dad, it only seems right in that I’m your primary caretaker,” 

Peter choked on his steak and coughed it up, “What?” 

“I’d like you to call me dad,” Mr. Lendon restated, the butler James stepped forward ready to activate the boy’s wristbands.

“No,” Peter protested, heart-clenching. He’d had many questions as to why he was here, he’d sorta just figured it was because the man wanted a living superhero, not a son.

“Why not?” Mr. Lendon shouted, starling the boy. He’d never once raised his voice before, Peter couldn’t help but tremble. He’d never been yelled at, he didn’t know how to react other than to shy away.

“You’re not-you’re-” Peter stuttered and cried, hands shaking as his anxiety continued to crawl up his back. James activated the bracelets, watching as the boy fell off the side of the chair and onto the carpet. 

\---

Tony looked down at his trembling hands, willing himself to calm down because he hasn’t seen who he considered his kid for three months. But he had a meeting to go to, he couldn’t just put the world on hold because his own was falling apart.

Buttoning his shirt and sliding on his finest suit, Tony walked out to the garage and hoped in his Audi. He normally didn’t do house calls, but they seemed eager to talk about using his old armor for charity and such. He wouldn’t let that happen, but considering charity was involved he’d rather explain in person the suits were dangerous and he’d still write them a check.

The house he pulled up to was nice, huge really for someone who didn’t seem to have much family. Parking the car and heading up the steps, the door opened before he could knock. Who he was assuming the butler smiled, “Mr. Stark, so glad to have you here. Mr. Lendon’s just finishing something up, let me show you in,”

Nodding Tony followed into the main room and to the stairs only to see Mr. Lendon coming down the second flight. The man looked a little disappointed until he smiled brightly at the billionaire, “Ah, Mr. Stark I’m so glad to finally meet you,”

“You as well,” Tony followed as the man lead him into a long room. The casings immediately catching his eyes.

“I’d like to talk to you about an opportunity for charity, using some old suits you might have hanging around-” The man’s voice faded out of the inventors head, his feet taking him to Mark 39.

Turning sharply to the man behind him to ask how in the hell did he get his hands on it, he froze. The case just behind them causing his heart to leap out of his chest, Spider-Man. Peter’s suit, the very suit he hadn’t been able to trace was standing right there behind a thick pane of glass.

“How-how did you get these?” He barked, sending Mr. Lendon reeling back. The butler appeared in the doorway, gun pointed at him.

His armor crawled up his arm quickly in defense, “Where is he?” When no one answered Tony grabbed Mr. Lendon by the shirt, lifting him up and slamming him into the glass hard enough for it to break.

“Where the fuck is my son?”

Tony shot the second before James tried pulling the trigger sending the man flying back. 

“Upstairs,” Mr. Lendon sobbed, “Please don’t take him-”

“Don’t take him?” Tony asked incredulously, chest heaving, “You took my kid away from me!”  Using his armored fist to knock the other man out he flew up the stairs. Blasting open the door only to hear a female scream.

Ramona who’d been putting the boy’s clothes away while Peter had been knocked out and resting peacefully in bed held to herself in protection. Tony stopped at the sight, hating how small the boy looked in that bed. 

“Get out,” he gritted, restraining himself from throwing the woman off the balcony. She scurried to do so, the billionaire moving to check on the boy.

“His wrist,” Friday spoke up, Tony carefully lifted the boy’s arms and tore the bracelets off.

“Goddammit kid, don’t you scare me like that again,” he breathed, head falling against the boy’s own before moving to lift him up. Still, Peter didn’t stir, but Tony figured he’d been knocked out and wouldn’t be up for a while.

Carrying the boy downstairs to the suits, shooting a low calculated blast at the glass covering Mark 39. Tony quickly synced the suits so it’d start up. It moving towards them to restrain the workers while he contemplated how to get the boy’s suit.

Mark 39 offered to take the boy once it was done, but Tony simply motioned for it to remove the boy’s suit from the mannequin which it did carefully.

The walk to the car was silent, especially as he reclined the front seat and set the boy down before buckling him in. Tony’s lip quirked in disapproval at the boy’s attire, even he wouldn’t wear fancy pajamas. Silk maybe, but it wasn’t really important. 

Mark 39 flew back to the compound, while Tony drove them home making sure to inform May that Peter was alright. When they arrived at the compound, Pepper, Happy and Rhodey quickly flooded into the garage. Watching with wide eyes as Tony maneuvered the boy from the seat and into his arms.

“Tones?” Rhodey asked, moving forward to make sure Peter was settled against his friend's chest. 

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Tony assured, taking the boy upstairs while Happy went off to get May.

\---

Peter stretched his shoulders, wandering aimlessly as he’d been doing for weeks. 

“You seem a little-lost kiddo,” Tony pointed out, watching from his desk as Peter settled and looked out the window.

“Yeah, I mean there was like this whole schedule I was on and-”

“You’re not there anymore,” Tony spoke up, his voice tight.

“I know, but even when the routine was mind-numbing and horrible and I just wanted to go home and see you, but you get used to routine even if you hate it,”

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I almost blew off that call too, if I had I don’t know if I would have ever found you,” Tony apologized, holding his head in his hands.

“You got there in time,” Peter reassured, remembering why he’d been knocked out in the first place. 

“Did I?” Tony asked unsurely.

“I was passed out because I said no when he asked me to call him dad,” Peter admitted, making sure to not look back at the man. 

“He what?” Tony asked frantically, sounding absolutely pissed. Peter clutched his stomach lightly, remembering it was around the time he’d have his second lunch.

“I said no,” The teen tried to reassure, “You think we could eat?” He asked timidly trying to change the subject. His mentor still didn’t seem alright but nodded nonetheless, motioning for Peter to follow which he did.

Tony placed an arm around the boy’s shoulder, the thought of someone else trying to father who he considered his kid hurt, but he knew he didn’t have that claim. Yet when Peter leaned so easily into his side, he could almost believe he did.

“I said no because if I did have to call anyone else that; It’d be you,” Peter told him after lunch, so quietly he almost didn’t hear it.

“Good, because I have no problem calling you my son,”


End file.
